One Way Ticket
by TryMeOnForSize
Summary: All Mikaela wants is to get out of her ghetto little neighborhood. But when is anything ever that simple? All she wanted was to get out, get away from her dime-a-dozen sob story, but she just had to have those stupid glasses. Now she finds herself sucked into an intergalactic civil war and oh lovely-is it possible she's fucked up enough to be falling for a hunk of scrap metal?


Mikaela Banes was excited. There were few things in the world that consistently excited and made her happy. These things included;

Anything to do with vehicles and fixing them

And seeing crisp, neatly folded dollar bills handed to her, and herself in turn storing the little slips of paper into three different coffee cans in the back of her closet, one for emergency expenses, another for a car, and one affectionately name the 'Get the Hell Out' can.

Mikaela had been fantasizing about when she would finally leave her ghetto-ass little crime riddled town on the wrong side of the tracks since her father was put behind bars, and she in a correctional facility for little girls who needed correcting. She had only been in for about a year, and it would have been much less if she hadn't flipped out in that way little kids do and slapped the policeman with the monkey wrench. It would probably be a lot worse if there had been any lasting damage done to the uppity man-handler.

Now, with her father six months away from getting out of jail with parole, Mikaela had enough to buy a really, _really _cheap car. Having a juuvie record put off most employers, so Mikaela made most of her money repairing people's cars and selling scrapped parts from the junkyard. She had been able to get a few odd jobs here and there, mowing people's lawns, walking dogs, stupid shit like that.

The only thing was, stupid shit like that usually paid for the water bill, and groceries.

Mikaela hadn't watched cable T.V since she got out of little kid jail. In her father's absence, Mikaela's recovered drug addict mother had relapsed. With no one to fall back on, she settled back comfortably into the deadly lifestyle of a piss-poor druggie.

Mikaela hadn't resented her mother forever, oh no. Her mother used to be the light in her world, her angel disguised as a human. Even when her mother had withdrawal symptoms she didn't understand, or was needlessly violent or inexplicably angry, Mikaela hadn't hated her. She hadn't even resented her. Until she walked in on her mother blowing her supplier instead of paying.

But that didn't matter, because Mikaela was going to be leaving. Leaving her mother, leaving high-school, leaving the god-forsaken town she lived in. She was already half-way there.

Mikaela was snapped out of her internal musings as people pushed past her to exit the bus. Her stop was one of the last ones and she had been on the bus for about an hour, the stink of body odor and homeless bums not even bothering her anymore. Mikaela's usual modes of transportation were the bus and walking. She didn't want to waste the money on a bike.

Spending money on impractical, non-necessary things was very unlike Mikaela. Aside from school clothes shopping, Mikaela rarely bought things for herself. Until last week.

As soon as she had laid her eyes on the Wickity-Whatever boy's distant relatives glasses, she knew she _had _to have them. Mikaela wasn't quite sure what it was that had made her shove her money into the startled and stammering boy's hand and rush of without a word, but she felt inside of her, a hot, twisted coil that snaked its way up her navel to rest uncomfortably in her throat, and she knew. She _knew _that those glasses were _hers _and she needed to have them in her possession, closely watched and taken care of.

It was ridiculous. She really shouldn't have bought them, twenty bucks was positively criminal for a pair of effing glasses that were almost completely shattered.

Mikaela sighed in relief as she hastily exited the train, barely waiting for the air brake. She took in deep breaths of fresh air. Mikaela pulled out her hand written directions, copied off of a computer at school, turning left on Park Ave. as instructed. Mikaela hummed quietly to herself a nameless tune that was halting and repetitive, nervously fingering the 4,000 dollars she had in her pocket.

Mikaela Banes was not by any means or definition stupid. She had practically raised herself, she knew how to be responsible, how to manage money, how to pay bills and forge a signature. She knew how to smile _just so _to make people listen to you, she knew how to lie, and she knew how to break a guy's nose while castrating him in the span of ten seconds. She knew a lot of things. Important things that would help her in life where book smarts or being pretty wouldn't. She knew how to manipulate. She also knew, it was incredibly stupid to take 4,000 dollars cash on a road trip all by her lonesome. She made herself small and unthreatening, unnoticeable in the crowded current of people.

Mikaela gave a little relieved sigh when she made it to the car dealership with all of her money. She raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the run down, small place. A greasy looking man greeted her at the entrance, shaking her hand enthusiastically and letting his eyes roam over her form in an oily way, leaving her to feel cheap and used. "My name's Bobby Bolivia, sweetheart, but you can call me Uncle Bobby," he said.

Mikaela wrinkled her nose slightly, a look of distaste on her face. "Hello, Mr. Bolivia," she said.

With a put-out look on his face, Bobby Bolivia asked her with much less enthusiasm, "So what can I do you for?"

Mikaela ignored the innuendo and waved him away, adopting a dismissive, holier-than-thou attitude. "I'll be fine looking around on my own. I'll find you when I need you."

Bobby narrowed his eyes and grumbled a little, but backed off and Mikaela continued on to the yard full of second-rate vehicles. She passed several cars she didn't even bother to look at. She was cheap, not classless. She would not, ever, be seen in a horrendous car. She was a gear head, and it pained her enough to be buying outdated models with scratched paint and worn out interior.

_No…no…no…maybe?...No…Oh, wait a minute._

Whoa. That was way better than she had even hope for at this dinky little shop. While the Camaro was older, with faded paint and a well-used look to it, Mikaela couldn't deny it had a charming appeal. It was…likeable. With a skeptical sigh, she opened up the car door, and what she found surprised her. Pleasantly, that is.

The leather interior was by no means new, but also extremely well kept, and the car just fit together well. The look worked for it, and the overall feel of the car was kind of…sexy. In a totally normal, non-disgusting way, of course.

Mikaela slid into the Camaro smoothly, her hand trailing over the stitching in the leather lightly, and the car jerked forward.

Mikaela yelped, grabbing onto the door handle. She squeezed her fist nervously and when it became apparent the car wasn't going to commit murder-suicide she let go slowly. Mikaela place her hands at ten and two, sliding her hands around the circular wheel in a caress, sighing contentedly. "You're gonna help me get out of this place, aren't you love?" The pet name fell from her lips easily, and she heard a strange purr coming from just outside the car. Mikeala's brow furrowed and she glance around to find the source of the sound. Finding nothing, she shrugged and patted the steering wheel affectionately, promising to be back soon.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~LINE*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Mikaela glared at Bobby _fucking _Bolivia. 5,000 dollars? Well now, that's unfortunate. For him.

"I don't think that car is worth 5,000 dollars. I don't think you're going to find someone who does." The statement was casual, matter of fact. Bolivia's face puffed up and got to be a nasty purple shade. He huffed in an annoyed fashion, his fists clenching tightly. "I've already told you! I will _not _lower the price for some pissy little girls who could probably just run to daddy and borrow his credit card anyways!"

Mikaela smirked threateningly, moving in on her prey. "My father is in jail. Wanna know what for, Uncle Bobby?"

The man gulped nervously and loosened his tie. "I-I don't—"

"Well, it was just a couple of assault charges, but the resisting arrest and assault of a federal officer sealed the deal," Mikaela lied casually, now almost toe to toe with the man. He was slightly shorter than her, she noted. "I think you should know, _sweetheart, _I tend to take after my father."

Bobby wiped at his sweaty forehead and wiggled away from her. "Fine, _fine, _4,000 for the Camaro, if you promise never to come back."

Mikaela smiled sweetly, snatched the keys from the man and practically threw her money in his face. She stormed away and quickly boarded the car, pushing the keys into their slot gently, turning the key in a quiet reverence. "I'm halfway there."


End file.
